Beyond the Wreckage: Finding the Sacred in the Depths of Contemplative Christian Spirituality

An invitation from the heart for all those who consider themselves Spiritual But Not Religious, and curious about Christianity but appalled by the behaviour of some Churches.

There is a sacred yearning within so many of us today. A deep hunger for the real, the beautiful, the transcendent. A longing for mystery and meaning, for connection to something beyond ourselves that is more than ideology or institution. More and more people now describe themselves as spiritual but not religious (SBNR) - not because they are indifferent to the sacred, but because they have been appalled by the Church or burned by religion. They have seen too much hypocrisy. They have encountered too many leaders more concerned with control than compassion. They have heard too many sermons that are dry, judgmental, or small-hearted. So they walk away—not from God, but from what has claimed to speak for God.

I understand. I really do. The Church has, in many cases, become its own worst enemy. It has clung to power rather than vulnerability, certainties rather than mystery, conformity rather than curiosity. It has been slow to repent of its historical violence, its colonial mindset, its treatment of women and LGBTQ+ people, its comfort with the status quo. For many, it has become a stumbling block, not a doorway. And yet, I want to say something that may be hard to hear but is spoken from the depth of my heart: don’t let the brokenness of the Church blind you to the staggering beauty of Christian spirituality. Don’t let bad religion rob you of a path that leads into the very heart of love.

The Church, at its best, is not a building or an institution. It is a living community of people trying—imperfectly, haltingly, sometimes painfully—to follow Jesus into the fullness of life. The Church was birthed by the Spirit, sustained by grace, and has carried the wisdom of the mystics, the depth of the sacraments, the rhythms of ancient prayer, and the fire of divine love across two millennia. But it is also made up of human beings—wounded, egotistical, scared, and scarred. And just like each of us, it carries both glory and mess. When we look at it with unflinching honesty, we will find both the Holy Spirit and the shadow. To see only one is to miss the truth.

To be clear, as an Ordained Anglican Christian my work has hurt as much as as it has helped people, I have made mistakes, I have got things wrong, and some have been quite cross with me associating me with all that is wrong in Christianity and the Church. I cringe now with an aching heart over what I have said to people and acted when this was not contemplatively centred and come from my own delusions and misjudgements. I hope that my journey into the contemplative has helped me to face this and face the need to inspire and encourage spiritual exploration. And maybe thats part of the point - that Church has always stuffed up but Christians seem to have a difficulty owning this - I don’t. In fact I would go so far to say that it is. miracle the church exists at all with all the brokenness and mistakes - which in my mind anyways points to the reality that there is a greater reality and presence behind Church and that the Church is not God in any way.

I’ve sat with people who have been devastated by the Church. People who were shamed for asking questions. People told that God had no place for them because they loved the “wrong” person or couldn’t subscribe to a narrow doctrinal formula. I’ve seen people ache for mystery, only to be handed moralism. I’ve seen churches that preach nothing but hollow slogans, and leaders who seem incapable of prayer that touches the soul because they themselves are terrified of silence. Terrified of the inner life. Terrified of losing control. It breaks my heart—and it also makes me want to shout from the rooftops: that is not the whole story.

Because there is another story. The story of Christian contemplatives—men and women across the ages who have dived into the depths of the soul and discovered God not as a distant judge but as intimate presence. There is the story of the desert mothers and fathers, of Julian of Norwich who saw God’s love in a hazelnut, of St John of the Cross who found God in the dark night, of Meister Eckhart who taught that the ground of the soul and the ground of God are one. There is the story of the sacraments, of breaking bread and blessing water, of touching earth and heaven in a single gesture. There is a spirituality in Christianity that is rich, rooted, embodied, and utterly alive.

I remember a man at a mission conference I helped facilitate. He came to me after a session on contemplative spirituality, visibly shaken and holding back tears. He had been practicing Christian meditation quietly for some time - had found in silence a lifeline, a real connection to the living God. But his rector, the priest of his Anglican parish in Canada, had preached from the pulpit that there was no such thing as an “inner life,” that real faith was about doctrine and public morality, not spirituality or inner experience. This man had been made to feel as if his deepest encounter with God was invalid, even heretical. His pain was palpable. He felt rejected by the very community that should have welcomed his search for the divine, for God. I remember thinking: it does not get more egoic than that—to stand before others and deny the inner landscape of the soul because it is unfamiliar or threatening to your worldview.

This is the crisis we are in. Too many leaders in the Church have been formed in the head but not in the heart. They know how to parse Greek verbs but not how to sit in silence. They can quote various forms of Christian catechism and discipleship formation but have never wept in the presence of mystery. And so, they lead others only where they themselves have gone - which is often no deeper than the surface. But let me say this plainly: Jesus knew the depths. Jesus went into the wilderness. Jesus withdrew to pray. Jesus taught of the kin-dom within. Jesus offered not a system of control but a path of transformation. To follow him is to go inward and outward in love - to die to ego and be born into compassion.

So if you are one of those who describe yourself as spiritual but not religious, I honour your search. I respect your mistrust. But I also invite you—gently, passionately, urgently—not to discard the whole treasure because some of it has been buried under rubble. Christian spirituality is not about belonging to an institution. It is about awakening to the Christ who lives and breathes and moves in you. It is about union with the divine, not conformity to a culture. It is about living from love, not fear. It is about discovering that God is not out there, watching and judging—but within, drawing and transforming.

You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to believe everything. You don’t even need to be sure you want to be part of the Church. But you can begin by meditating and contemplative prayer. You can begin by sitting in stillness, by opening the Gospels with fresh eyes, by walking in the woods and whispering, “God, if you are real, meet me here.” And you might just find that the Spirit meets you. Not with lightning and thunder, but with a gentle touch, a quiet warmth, a deep knowing. That you are loved. That you are not alone. That something ancient and alive is rising within you.

The Church may be failing in many ways. But the Christ at its heart is not. And the well is still deep.

So drink. Come and drink.

If this interests you and you are interested in the contemplative spiritual path check out these links from previous writing. Below are info and different spiritual practices for those who consider themselves to be SBNR to explore more deeply.